


Sweet As Honey

by imaginary_golux



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Competent Finn, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9350204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: Rey thinks she's been getting pretty good at kissing, what with all the practice she's been getting, and would like to know what comes next. Finn is surprisingly knowledgeable.Beta by my ever-patient Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.





	

Rey thinks she’s getting pretty good at kissing, really. It’s not something she really thought about doing while she was on Jakku - who would she have kissed, anyway, Unkar Plutt? _Ewww_ \- nor, for that matter, during the hectic few months after BB-8 showed up and her entire life was repeatedly upended, but these days, now that things have settled down a little, insofar as things ever settle down during a war, she has begun to figure out why so many people are so very interested in kissing.

Not that she wants to start going about kissing just _anybody_. She doesn’t trust most people as far as she could throw them, after all - growing up on Jakku does not tend to instil a great faith in sapient decency - much less enough to make herself as vulnerable as kissing does. But Finn - Finn she could kiss forever. Finn’s lips are warm and soft and his hands are broad and gentle and he can kiss soft and slow or hard and sweet or light and teasing, and Rey has grown to crave his kisses as profoundly as she craved food in those hungry years on Jakku. And he’s always _willing_ to kiss her, too. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, whether they’re studying or sparring or just talking, if Rey curls into the curve of his arm and looks up at him hopefully he’ll bend his head the scant few inches between them and kiss her as sweet as honey. It’s intoxicating, to know how much he adores her. It’s everything she’s ever wanted - _he’s_ everything she’s ever wanted: a partner, someone brave and strong enough to fight beside her, someone who came back for her, even into the heart of his darkest fear, for no reason but love.

So yes, kissing Finn is about the best thing she’s ever done, and she loves every moment of it. But she’s starting to have _dreams_ , now, dreams that she knows aren’t Force-visions (Master Luke has taught her how to identify those) but that she suspects are true nonetheless, even if they aren’t real - dreams that leave her lying wide-eyed in the darkness, _wanting_ something she cannot name. There’s an ache between her legs, an entirely unfamiliar wetness and _openness_ , and she doesn’t know what it means. The first time it happened, she thought her monthlies had come, and scrambled half-desperate into the refresher before she remembered that she wasn’t on Jakku and the scent of blood would not bring predators to her door. And the medics here in the Resistance have given her the implant that takes care of _that_ worry, in any case; it was only reflex that set her panicking.

But now she knows it isn’t her monthlies, and though she can’t remember _much_ of the dreams, she has managed to drag fragments from her memory. They all have one thing in common: Finn. Finn’s mouth, warm and gentle. Finn’s broad hands. The planes of Finn’s beautiful chest, gleaming the way they do after sparring when he takes his shirt off to wipe his face and Rey has to look away before she’s caught staring.

The look in Finn’s eyes as he gazes down at her, trust and endless love and something else she cannot name but that makes her shiver and press against him, taking comfort in his warm arms.

So if the one common thread in these strange dreams is Finn, then clearly the logical course of action is to ask Finn if he knows what’s going on.

They’re kissing, late in the evening after sparring and dinner and hours studying all the various things that normal people know and Stormtroopers and scavengers don’t - things like the customs of the major polities, and how credits work in places that aren’t Jakku, and what the common idioms in Aurebesh mean. Rey is straddling Finn’s lap, Finn’s arms warm around her, and she feels almost like melting butter, more relaxed and comfortable than she’d ever even _dreamed_ of being on Jakku. She likes this position, likes feeling Finn beneath her and around her, likes being surrounded by him. It _astonishes_ her sometimes how much she likes it. She’s always hated feeling trapped, but like this, she isn’t trapped at all. She’s utterly safe, and utterly free.

Finn reaches up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, and Rey leans against his hand with a sigh of contentment. “Finn,” she says quietly. Finn hums acknowledgement, bending his head to kiss her neck, the curve of her jaw, her earlobe. Rey giggles. “Finn, is there - do you know how -” she stops and tries to figure out the right words.

Finn lifts his head to meet her eyes and waits, one hand stroking gently over her hair. Rey sighs and turns her head to kiss his palm, then leans forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, too, because it’s been whole _minutes_ since she did that last. “What comes after kissing?” she asks, finally.

Finn smiles, crooked and mischievous. “More kissing,” he suggests. Rey giggles and turns her head again to bite gently at his thumb, giggles harder when he winces theatrically.

“ _After_ kissing,” she says again. “Or - do you - have you done -”

Finn kisses her silent. “Yes, I’ve - well,” he says, and then winces a little, the way he does when something reminds him of _before_. “We were told it’s not healthy to ignore sexual instincts,” he says slowly. “So we had rec time. It was scheduled. I was - I was good at it. It was the only time we got to touch each other, and the better I was, the more people would choose me as a partner. It was about the only choice we ever got to make, so it was - it _meant_ something.” He smiles, the crookedness that of half-painful memories instead of mischief, and Rey wants to kiss the smile into something true again, wants to go break the kneecaps of everyone who ever made Finn feel less than perfect and wonderful and endlessly desirable. “So. Yeah. I’ve done - more than kissing. And I’m pretty good at it. But, Rey, I - I’m happy just kissing, if that’s all you want. Kissing you is better than anything _ever_ was with anyone else. I could kiss you forever.”

Rey kisses him for that, because what else is she supposed to do? And then - a truth for a truth - she says, “I’ve never done anything more than kissing. But I keep _dreaming_ of you, and I _want_ to do more. With you. Only _ever_ with you. I’m choosing you, Finn, now and forever, nobody else. So will - will you show me?”

Finn gulps, hard, and then he kisses her so deep and sweet her knees go weak and she sags against him, clutching desperately at his shoulders and _wanting_ so much it hurts. “I choose you,” he murmurs in her ear as he pulls away. “Nobody else, ever. I choose _you_.” And then he bites, very gently, at the lobe of her ear, and Rey shivers so hard it startles her. “And yes, I’ll show you,” he adds, leaning back and grinning, joyful and gorgeous. “I’ll show you _everything_ , Rey.”

“Good,” Rey says, nodding firmly. “How do we start?”

Finn licks his lips thoughtfully. “You could - take off your shirt?” he suggests, and Rey leans back in the circle of his arms and shrugs out of it as easy as breathing, tossing it behind her onto the floor. Finn’s breath catches, and he traces the hem of the cloth wound around her breasts with a gentle finger. “May I?”

Rey nods.

Finn unwinds the cloth with careful, almost reverent hands. Rey has tried the clothing the Resistance quartermaster offered her, the tailored things built for human women’s frames, but there’s something immensely comforting about the wound cloth that she has used since she was old enough to _need_ something around her chest, and she’s gotten so good at putting it on that it barely takes any time at all. But Finn takes his time about unwinding it, something bright and hungry in his eyes. When the cloth finally falls away, he takes a sharp breath, and reaches over to hang the cloth over the bedpost without ever taking his eyes from hers. “Stars, but you’re gorgeous, Rey,” he says quietly.

Rey is honestly sort of startled. She’s used to think of her body as a sort of tool, a means of getting from one place to another or doing what needs to be done. She’s never thought of herself as _gorgeous_ before. She turns the word over in her mind for a moment before she decides that she kind of likes it - in Finn’s voice, at any rate. She’s not sure she’d like it if anyone _else_ dared to call her beautiful, but from Finn, Finn who adores her and respects her and would kill or die for her, and she for him - from Finn, it’s like a warm embrace, sweet and comforting and wonderful. “So are you,” she offers, because it’s true, and watches his smile grow broader, his eyes light with joy.

“Let me -” he starts, and Rey cuts him off, kisses him silent, and whispers, “Anything,” against his lips. Finn makes a tiny, lovely sound, and shivers beneath her.

“Alright,” he says, and bends his head to kiss his way slowly down her neck, along the sweep of her collarbone and on down her right arm, lips gentle on the sensitive skin, nose tickling the bend of her elbow until Rey giggles helplessly. He kisses soft and warm where her pulse beats fast on the inside of her wrist, and then again at the center of her palm, kisses each fingertip in turn, and really it’s not any less chaste than the kissing they’ve been doing before, but Rey is flushed and gasping when Finn looks up to meet her eyes again.

“Good?” he asks, looking smug enough that Rey knows he knows the answer already, but she nods vigorously anyway, because it _is_ , it’s so good, Finn’s warm kisses on skin she didn’t even know was that sensitive and Finn’s warm arms around her and Finn’s strong legs beneath her.

Finn smiles, slow and sweet, and raises her other hand to his lips, kisses up her left arm in a mirror of his earlier movements. Rey is not sure she’s going to survive anything more intimate than this, but she wants to know what comes next - wants to know what else Finn can show her.

“More,” she says, when he looks up to meet her eyes again, and Finn smiles wide and sweet and bends his head again to lick at the peak of her nipple. Rey shudders, hard, startling herself badly - who knew her breasts could feel like _that_? But oh, she wants to feel that again, and she arches back against Finn’s encircling arms to give him better access to her chest, and hears herself moan aloud as he licks again, pauses thoughtfully, and sets his teeth so-gently against her, just the bare hint of danger, sharp and perfect.

Rey’s moan echoes off the walls, and she claps a hand over her own mouth in astonishment. Finn hums thoughtfully, and does it again.

Even Rey’s dreams, that wake her wanting in the darkness, have not left her so _desperate_ as she is right now. She’s shaking with it, trembling within the circle of Finn’s arms, and oh, his lips and his teeth and his tongue are _addictive_ , she might never again be satisfied with anything else now that she has had _this_. “More,” she says, again, half-muffled by her hand, but Finn hears her well enough. He straightens up - Rey makes a noise of protest - and then he _stands_ , lifting her easily, and turns to lay her back on the bed. Rey sprawls out against the pillows, disconcertingly uncoordinated, and Finn puts one hand on the waistband of her pants and raises an eyebrow.

“May I?”

“Kriff, yes,” Rey says, and lifts her hips and wriggles as he tugs at her pants, until finally she is completely bare, the sheets cool against her back and Finn’s eyes warm as sunshine as he gazes at her. “You, too,” she adds, and Finn blinks in brief confusion, then tugs his shirt off in a single easy motion. Rey lets herself stare at his chest, lets herself admire every plane and curve of muscle; the scar on his shoulder is not a mar, but a mark of courage, and she wants with sudden and surprising desperation to kiss it, to kiss too the long scar down his back that means he _lived_.

But first she wants to know what that look in his eyes means, because she has never seen such heat and hunger in Finn’s expression before, and given what he has _already_ shown her - well. She wants to _know_.

And then Finn steps out of his pants, and Rey’s breath catches in her throat. He is beautiful - well, she knew that already. But also, he is _strange_ , shaped nothing like Rey at all, and Rey has a single moment of sheer terror at the unknown - and then quashes that feeling just as fast, because he is _beautiful_ and he is _Finn_ , and he will never hurt her. Everything he has shown her so far has felt so wonderful she cannot find words for it; therefore Rey is sure that everything _else_ he shows her will be likewise wonderful.

Finn smiles when Rey relaxes again, and kneels down on the bed between her legs, and says, “Alright?”

“Alright,” Rey replies, grinning, and Finn bends down and spreads her legs a little wider and _oh kriffing hells_ , if Rey thought his mouth was wonderful on her _breasts_ it is nothing to how utterly delightful it is between her legs. She shoves her knuckles into her mouth to muffle a cry of pleasure, loops one leg around Finn’s shoulders to _keep him there_ , dear stars and planets, she may never let him move again.

Finn chuckles against her - the vibrations make Rey whimper against her knuckles - and then one of his blunt clever fingers is brushing up against her where she’s soaking wet and achingly open, and Rey holds her breath, not sure what she’s hoping for. She finds out moments later, as Finn’s finger slips into her, painless and shocking and exactly what her body wanted. Rey gasps, arches her hips against Finn’s mouth and shakes beneath him, and then his thumb is on that terribly sensitive nub that Rey has only just found out exists, and his finger is deep inside her, and Rey tangles her free hand in the sheets so she doesn’t rip any of Finn’s hair out and tries desperately not to scream in pleasure.

And then Finn does _something_ with his tongue and his thumb, and Rey can’t keep from screaming after all. The wave of ecstasy leaves her shaking and flushed and gasping, and Finn looks up with the smuggest smile she’s ever seen. Well, that’s alright; he’s earned a little smugness.

“Finn,” Rey says hoarsely, and reaches down to cup her hand around his cheek. Finn leans into the touch, eyes closing in contentment, and Rey gulps and sits up, pushing at Finn’s shoulder until he figures out what she wants and sprawls out beside her on the bed on his back. Rey leans over and kisses him, licks the taste of herself from his lips and marvels at it. “Let me - let me touch you?” she asks, and Finn’s eyes go wide and hopeful.

“Please,” he says, and Rey wriggles up onto her knees and stares down at him for a moment, trying desperately to figure out where to start. Well, if she liked something, maybe Finn will like it too? She picks up his still-sticky hand and kisses the fingertips, his broad palm, the tender skin of his wrist. Finn’s eyes, she sees when she looks, are blown wide and dark, and his breath is coming faster. Clearly she’s doing _something_ right.

Learning Finn is oddly like scavenging, in a way: looking for the spots that cause the best reactions while avoiding any places that might cause problems. Rey discovers that Finn’s nipples are nearly as sensitive as her own, that he’s ticklish under his ribs, that he sighs and relaxes against the sheets when she nips gently at his throat. She works her way down his body in fits and starts, not quite sure what she’s doing but very sure she likes the way his breath comes short or shivers out in moans when she does something particularly right.

And she’s really not sure what she’s doing when she finally reaches his - his cock, she decides, as that’s the least obscene of the words she knows, the one that sounds least violent and unpleasant. It doesn’t _look_ violent and unpleasant, after all. It’s just as beautifully proportioned as the rest of Finn. Rey runs one finger down it, gently, and glances up to see that Finn has curled his hands in the sheets and is watching her with such naked desire in his eyes that it makes her shiver to see it.

“What should I do?” she asks, and Finn licks his lips and takes a deep breath and says, “What do you want to do?”

Rey wrinkles her nose at him. “I don’t _know_ , that’s why I asked,” she says. She’d be more irritated, but she’s still basking on the high from that moment of sheer ecstasy, and really she could forgive Finn far worse things than a few silly questions just now. Then she reconsiders. “I want - I want -” she shivers and presses her thighs together, feeling another shivering aftershock and marveling again at the strange _emptiness_ where Finn’s finger was buried so deep inside her. “More,” she decides at last. “I want more.”

Finn beams. “Come here,” he says, untangling his fingers from the sheets and holding out his arms, and Rey scrambles onto him, careful not to knee him anywhere sensitive, and kisses him hungrily. This isn’t an angle they’ve tried before, and Rey sort of likes it, likes looking down into Finn’s lovely eyes and feeling him spread out warm beneath her, his hands gentle and steady on her hips.

Feeling his cock twitch against her stomach, hot and somehow insistent - _that_ ’s new, too. Rey shifts a little, thoughtfully, lets a little more of her weight rest on Finn instead of her knees, and Finn actually _moans_ , which is delightful and utterly unexpected. “How -?” Rey asks, and Finn kisses her once more, sweet and deep and perfect, and then urges her up with his hands on her hips until she’s kneeling astride him, looking down at his broad chest and bright eyes and bitten-red lips.

“You’re sure?” Finn checks, and Rey nods.

“Of course,” she says. “Show me.”

Finn nods back, and takes one hand off her hip to reach down between them and guide his cock up until the tip is resting just where Rey has so recently discovered she wants it. “Go slow,” he says, and Rey almost goes as fast as she can out of sheer contrariness, but Finn so clearly knows what he’s doing, and everything _else_ he’s done tonight has been so wonderful, that Rey does exactly as he says, and eases down as slowly as she can, gasping with each fraction of an inch. Finn’s cock is bigger - _much_ bigger - than a single finger, but as eager as she is, and as slow as she’s going, there’s no pain at all included in the stretch of it.

And then Finn shifts one broad hand a little so that he can get his thumb between her legs to that sensitive little nub, and even the faint discomfort of the stretch vanishes under a shivering wave of pleasure. Rey sways forwards and braces her hands on Finn’s chest, gasping, and Finn smiles up at her, and she slides all the rest of the way down in one delicious motion that makes Finn’s head go back and draws a moan from his throat that makes Rey shudder in sympathetic pleasure.

“You’re okay?” Finn gasps, once he’s gotten his breath mostly back, and Rey says, “Kriff yes, now _show me_ ,” and Finn laughs, deep in his chest, and shifts a little so he’s got his feet braced, and starts to _move_.

Oh.

Oh, _that’s_ what she’s been wanting.

Rey braces her hands a little more firmly and gets her knees properly under her and starts to move in counterpoint to Finn’s long, easy thrusts, reveling in the moans that reverberate through the room every time their hips meet, in the way Finn’s hands tighten on her hips, in the way he looks under her, devoted and delighted and _delectable_. She may never be able to look at Finn again without remembering how beautiful he is stretched out beneath her, within her, _with_ her in this new and utterly wonderful way.

And then Finn’s thumb moves again, perfect little circles in counterpoint to their easy rocking thrusts, and Rey feels that great wave of pleasure cresting, about to sweep her away again, and gasps, “You too - Finn, _Finn_ ,” and the world goes white around her.

She’s still braced atop Finn when the pleasure finally ebbs and she can blink her eyes clear again, his hands warm and gentle on her hips. Rey lets herself sag down onto his chest, tucks her head into the curve of his neck and presses her lips to the soft skin under his jaw. “That was _wonderful_ ,” she says quietly.

“Yes,” Finn agrees, and Rey shivers again at how deep and hoarse his voice is. “It’s so much - it’s so much _better_ with you, you have no idea -”

Rey kisses his jaw again, and then Finn is rolling them over, getting his knees under him so he doesn’t squish her, and kissing her deeply. “Let me?” he asks when he pulls back to catch his breath.

“Yes,” Rey says, although she has no idea what he means. At this point, though, she’s going to assume that _anything_ he wants is a good idea. And given that Finn’s response is to start kissing his way down her throat, Rey is pretty sure she’s made the right decision.

Finn’s fingers on Rey’s breast are a surprise and a delight; his teeth gentle on the tender skin above her ribs make her shiver and startle a whimper from her mouth. And then he settles down between her legs again, and Rey gulps and claps a hand over her mouth and braces herself, because _oh stars and planets_ his mouth, his fingers, that clever thumb, and she’s wet with her own desire and Finn’s pleasure, and the _sound_ as he licks into her - filthy and wet and _desperate_ -

Rey bites her knuckles harder than she ought to and still can’t quite muffle the hoarse, helpless moan that marks yet another wave of impossible ecstasy.

When she manages to collect herself again, Finn is smiling down at her, deservedly smug, and Rey is so wrung out that she’s not even sure she can move. “Come here,” she says, once she’s pried her hand out of her mouth - oops, toothmarks, awkward - and kisses Finn as well as she damn well can, tasting herself and something that must be _him_ on his lips.

“Thank you,” she says, when she has to catch her breath, as Finn settles down beside her and tucks an arm gently over her stomach. It’s warm and heavy and oddly comforting. “That was - that was so good.”

“It was,” Finn says, curling closer and nuzzling up against her cheek. “It was - it was so much better, with you.”

“Good,” Rey says decisively. “Next time you have to teach me how to - how to do everything _you_ like.”

“I will,” Finn promises. “I’ll teach you everything.” The word trails off into a yawn, and Rey giggles and squirms around until they’re curled around each other, sticky and overwarm and perfect, and flicks off the lights with a thought.

“I choose you,” she says, into the quiet dark between them. “Always.”

“And I choose you,” Finn says, just as softly and sincerely. “Always.”

Rey falls asleep in his arms, and her dreams are full of light and Light and love.

**Author's Note:**

> I am on tumblr as imaginarygolux; drop on by!


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